


On One Side of an Ampersand

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Conflict, Crying, Episode Fix-it, F/F, Fights, Hugs, Love, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started when I thought that to be strong you must be flame retardant...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On One Side of an Ampersand

It hasn't been the best couple of days for Callie's relationship.

Her almost-a-girlfriend is curled up in her couch because her life's practically wrecked to the ground. She's shivering with rage and frustration and rejection, completely ignoring everything around her.

Meanwhile, Callie is sitting on the floor near her unsure of what to do next.

Callie isn't good at the emotional stuff, she's starting to realize.

In fact, if she's being honest (and why not?), she's been a jerk to Erica since approximately two seconds after the big kiss in front of Seattle Grace. Probably because Callie's drawn this line between lover and friend that didn't need to be there and now Erica is silently sobbing into her couch because nobody stood up for her today. Stephens stole a heart and ultimately killed two people for love and selfishness, and the hospital took her back and took her money and protected her.

Erica, who simply wanted to save one life and could have saved two if Stephens hadn't cut that LVAD wire, is somehow the bad guy. Nobody had her back today. Not even Callie. She had been right -- if devastatingly cruel and angry -- and nobody could look her in the eye.

So Callie, aware that she's messed up, reaches out and touches Erica's ankle, which is immediately yanked away.

"I told you, go home," Erica snarls. It's a muffled snarl because she's still crying into her couch, but a snarl it is.

"I told you no," Callie replies.

"Oh, yay," Erica says, looking up with a scarlet face and sour sneer. "Now you're here for me. Glad I finally found something I can fuck up that won't send you running to Sloan with a terrified look on your face."

Callie deserves that. And she knows better than to talk when Erica is trying to cut out her heart with verbal knives.

"So you're just going to sit on my floor until I come off my crazy rage high and then what? Tell me it's all gonna be okay and you want to be with me?" Erica continues, still pulled in as small as she can be, untouchable.

"No, I'm going to sit here until you can breathe after being shanked by all your colleagues and listen when you tell me what will make you feel better," Callie says.

"You getting the hell out of my life would make me feel better," Erica says. "You never having happened to me would make me feel better. You destroy me, Callie, and I can't do this. I can't be vulnerable like this. It's too hard."

Tears are rolling over Erica's cheeks and blotches are standing out on her skin and Callie has never felt more ashamed of herself. Also, now she's crying too.

Which is kind of shocking.

Callie's not a big crier and she thinks there's been too much crying in this relationship, but there they are. Tears.

"I don't know why I keeping doing this to you," Callie says.

"Yeah, I know. You don't know anything about anything," Erica says, practically choking on the words. "I get it, okay?"

"No, you don't!" Callie says, feeling a little broken inside. No. This is not getting away from her. It would hurt too much. "I know I've done every last thing wrong. I know. I'm a bad gay girlfriend. I'm the worst girlfriend in the universe. But I can't. I can't give up on you. I don't want to give you up."

Erica tilts her head back. "Stop it," she says. "I _can't_ , Callie. I have lost a great deal of dignity and self-respect over the last week and a half, and the thing that hurts me the most is still that you slept with him instead of talking to me. That you won't look me in the eye when I'm facing down something that was wrong and killed two people. When I say you destroy me, I mean exactly that."

"I don't want to destroy you," Callie says. "I want. I want, like, a do-over. I want it to go the way I imagined when I kissed you and all the other stuff to go away."

"That doesn't get to happen," Erica says sharply. "There aren't do-overs. I don't get to go back to being the ice queen who didn't know what she was missing, and you don't get to stop being the one who cheated."

So there. That's where they are. The destroyed ice queen and the fuck-up cheater. And Callie can't pretend it's not true, but she won't let it stop there. She can't.

"Then...forgive me, maybe. I know I don't have the right to ask for that, but I think maybe that we should realize that we're both new at this. And bad at emotions. And I'm a crappy girlfriend and you're emotionally vulnerable and we should talk when we're upset and try not to have sex with other people or kill Izzie instead," Callie says. "Please, I. I want you. I want you so much that I keep doing stupid things to keep you. Let me show you how much I want to keep you."

She's pulled herself to her knees, so they're practically on eye level, both of them with tear-reddened eyes and Erica looks breathless and hopeful and terrified.

Part of the scary is that Callie has never been on the receiving end of this much raw need. George never looked at her like this, not even when they got married, and Callie's not used to being the one who can destroy another person with indifference.

It's too much power for her, but Erica's right -- there's no going back now.

"Let me show you," Callie repeats.

Erica nods silently. And then shakes her head.

"Let me show you," she says hoarsely. "I need this to be about me and not you for once."

Yes. Okay. "What do you need?" Callie asks, easing herself onto the couch.

Erica's hand finds Callie's, damp and cold. Then slowly, she scoots over and puts Callie's arms around her.

"I had a really awful day at work," she says in a high, sad voice that barely sounds like Erica. "I'm tired, Callie."

Callie pulls her close and kisses the back of Erica's neck. "You were brave," she says. "What Izzie did was wrong. It was for reasons I understand, but it was wrong. You did the right thing."

Erica's fingers are tangled in hers and she squeezes hard. "I had to watch that man die," she says. "Two years ago, I had to tell him that there wasn't a heart after all in front of his four-year-old. He died slow and he died hard. And I wanted to believe that at least the man who stole the heart from my guy was living happily ever after. And he didn't. He died an hour after getting that heart. And the woman who killed him...the woman who killed him..."

Her voice cracks. Callie hugs her closer, feeling the shivers of the angry sobs wracking the body against hers.

"I know," Callie says, rocking Erica slightly. "God, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"They all hate me," Erica says. "They think I'm a heartless bitch. I tried to save a man's life. He had kids. He didn't do anything wrong. He was just a man who had a bad heart. But she gets forgiven because she did it for love. And I don't."

"I forgive you," Callie whispers into the fevered skin beneath her lips. "You're not heartless. You're not a bad person. You don't need forgiving. But I forgive you."

The shudder of relief Callie feels vibrate into her skin is...well, it's maybe the one good thing Callie's done for Erica since kissing her for the first time that isn't fucked up or tainted somehow.

"Thank you," Erica says softly, practically limp as Callie strokes her girlfriend's neck and shoulder.

It's not the fevered sex on the floor that Callie thought would happen. But it's intense, and eventually, Callie pulls them down to lie on the couch without saying anything, their bodies tangled together in a closeness that isn't at all sexual.

This is nothing like what would have happened with George. Or Mark. George had handled his father's illness with lengthy bouts of sex and a hasty marriage. Mark mopes and isolates himself when he's upset. Callie, well? She panics and does whatever stupid thing comes into her head.

Erica rages and fights and wants to be held. And this is not a bad thing. This is one of those things that isn't even a boy thing versus a girl thing; it's an Erica thing as compared to a George thing as compared to a Callie thing as compared to a Mark thing.

"I don't usually cry this much," Erica says eventually. "I swear."

Callie grins. "I promise I won't tell that the scary Dr. Hahn cries sometimes," she answers.

"It's your fault anyway. Scary Dr. Hahn cries because her girlfriend is a--" and Erica's yawn nearly splits Callie's head, it's so big -- "Maaaazing."

"And awful," Callie says.

"And awful," Erica agrees. "But so am I. I'm awful. I'm way too intense, and I was already a mean person before you made me the clingy girl who takes out her anxiety on other people."

"Ohhh," Callie says. "But you're awesome. You're not scared to be intense with a girl and I'm a little scared, even though I want to be intense with you. You can say all the things that make me feel pukey with anxiety."

Erica is stroking her arm and almost humming. "I haven't slept in two days," she whispers. "I wish I wasn't so tired, because I would try to kiss away the anxiety. But--" and she makes a tired little noise. "I need to sleep."

She sits up and gets to her feet slowly, wearily reaching under her shirt and taking off her bra. There's something about that gesture that's almost most intimate than sex in its unguarded casualness. The swelling around her eyes has gone down, but there are dark circles under Erica's eyes.

"I'll stay over," Callie offers. "If you want."

"Okay," Erica says drowsily, half-smile touching her face. "I'd like that."

It's the right thing, Callie thinks. And it's less difficult than learning the right places to touch on a woman's body. But as they go, she realizes it's no less important, noticing how Erica shucks her shoes as they walk down the hallway, forgets to take off her socks, being unsurprised by the line her bra leaves on her back.

Callie reaches out to trace the indentation before Erica pulls a ratty t-shirt off the floor and puts it on.

"There are some in the drawer," Erica says, curling up on her side. "If you want."

"I'm fine," Callie says, stripping off her clothes. By the time she finishes, Erica's asleep. The stress has smoothed out of her face and it's clear that she's out cold.

So much for anything like sex until tomorrow.

Callie draws her hand over her lover's arm before getting under the sheets with her.

She feels comfortable for the first time in how long? Long enough. And it's not anything Callie imagined in any of her fevered Callie-and-Erica fantasies, but it's good nonetheless.

For the first time, it's not scary to snuggle up against Erica's back and try to find the right place to get some sleep.

And it's good.

It's good.


End file.
